


Resta Con Me

by moranth



Series: Russell Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moranth/pseuds/moranth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay With Me" Nothing for Russell Shepard has ever been easy, and his love-life is no exception. He's unsure of how to proceed when he realizes he has feelings for someone in his team, leading to misunderstandings and eventually love. the 3rd part of the Just A Man Series.''Continued in Shrines</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Into every life, a little rain must fall._ That was how the old saying went, but Russell couldn't help feeling like he'd had more than his fair share of stormy weather. He'd been orphaned, abandoned, beaten, doped up, shot up, and even dead. But the hits kept on coming.

To hear him tell it, his life had been one long, string of unfortunate events that left him no recourse. He joined the Reds for the safety that numbers brought. He started doing sand to escape the Hell that was gang life in Earth's slums. He joined theAlliancebecause he needed an out. He'd sent dozens to their deaths on Torfan because he had to sacrifice the few to save the many. All of that shit aside, his current situation had the rest beaten by a mile. In his opinion, anyway.

Millions of batarians were dead because of bad intel, and this time there had really been no other choice. They would either die when the asteroid hit the Alpha Relay or they'd be indoctrinated when the Reapers came through it if the ancient machines bothered with that at all. Russell blew up the Relay, trying to give their deaths some meaning, sparing them from a worse fate, but it still felt wrong. There was no exit, no option where everyone was able to live and the deal a blow to the Reapers. No happy ending. It made him feel like shit.

Hackett had given him a real dressing down for his tactics, but if there had been a better way, Russell wished the Admiral would let him in on it. Batarians weren't the most agreeable race humanity had come across during their short stay in Citadel space, and they already had more than enough reasons to hate his guts, but they deserved better than they'd gotten in this case.

Now he stood in the deserted engine room, nursing his wounded pride. The doors on the far end of the room opened and in strode Garrus. Thanks to Mordin, Chakwas, and a handful of Cerberus engineered tech, his limp was nearly imperceptible unless you knew to listen for it. He leaned on the railing next to the commander, offered him a fresh beer.

Garrus sipped at his own bottled beverage and stared down at the drive core. "I take it the Admiral was less than thrilled with your debriefing?"

"Yeah... He really wanted a piece of me. I've even got the bite marks to prove it."

Garrus cast him a sidelong glance. "So… what happens now?"

Russell blew out a long breath, scratching his scalp through the SR2 cap he'd swiped from Joker. "I head to Earth to stand trial. I've got about two months before then, so I guess I'll just try to make them count."

"What if they convict you?" Garrus tried to look stoic, but Russell had been around him long enough to hear the notes of concern in his subvocals.

"Even if they find me guilty, I won't let them take me." If nothing else, the trial was the perfect opportunity to bring his information about the Reapers in front of the top brass. He'd have a captive audience. He couldn't have gotten a better opportunity if he'd planned it; he only wished the cost hadn't been so high. "No cell can hold me, not that you guys would let them try."

"Damn straight," Garrus said, clinking their bottlenecks together. "But just in case you do wind up in the choky, is there anything you'd want to do before then?"

"Taking the crew out for one last round at Dark Star sounds good. Getting laid would also be nice, but I don't see that happening."

"Why not? To hear some of the female crew tell it, you're alright looking for a human. And if they weren't receptive to the idea, I'm sure there are others who would be, albeit for a price."

Russell nearly spat his beer onto his boots. "Are you speaking from experience here, Garrus?"

"Archangelmay have dabbled once or twice. When you're working to clean up a pit like Omega, it doesn't exactly leave a lot of time for proper relationships." _But plenty of time for cheap sex,_ Russell added silently. Garrus cleared his throat. "But we aren't talking about me, this is about you."

"True enough. And thanks for the backhanded compliment, by the way."

A turian grin. "No problem."

"I don't think they're really my type."

"Who, the hookers? Because they actually have a wide variety of—"

"Not the hookers, Garrus. The _crewmen_."

"How can you say that? I didn't even tell you which ones. Unless you mean..." Russell swore he could see the light bulb turn on. "Oh! I never would have guessed. I always thought you were some sort of _lady-man_ ; a lover in every port, and all that."

"That's _ladies_ man," the human shook his head, to keep from laughing or crying, he wasn't sure. At least Garrus tried. "And yeah, I get that a lot."

"Now that I think of it, I haven't seen you really associate with anyone else even on shore leave. I just assumed that being the first human spectre got you a lot of tail, and you were just really discrete."

"I got propositioned by asari more than anyone else, the rest of the proposals were from women, oddly enough. Besides, for most of that Saren-Geth fiasco, I was 'attached.'"

"Really? Damn, you're secretive," Garrus groused, sounding more bitter than he probably intended.

A twinge of guilt made Russell rub the back of his neck. "I thought things would be easier that way." But instead, the practice of keeping everything to himself had gotten him into a whole mess of trouble. He hadn't shared his burden and fell on old methods of dealing with his issues.

"So, who was he?"

"His name was—is Ivan. He lived on Demeter, last I checked. He started out as a shore leave fling, before all of this spectre stuff that turned into more. I haven't spoken to him since I got the zombie treatment. It's been more than two years. It didn't seem fair to disrupt his life after all this time."

Garrus nodded. "That's gotta be rough."

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about moving on?"

"...Maybe."

"Anyone I know?"

Russell tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes. No matter how old he got, sharing who he might be interested in never got any easier than it was when he was a teenager. It felt like when times had been good, back when the Reds started. While they were still young and innocent and clean.

Picking up his apprehension, Garrus quickly started to backpedal.

"You don't have to tell me, if you won't want to."

"It's Krios," Russell mumbled, as if the drell possessed super hearing as well as total recall. Garrus must have heard him because he quickly looked over his shoulder towards the little window in Life Support that overlooked the engine room. "Very subtle, my friend." Russell pulled his hat down until it touched the bridge of his nose.

"I wanted to be sure we were talking about the same guy."

"What's wrong with him?" The spectre raised a brow, more curious than affronted.

"He just doesn't seem like your type, is all."

"My type?"

"Yeah. He's so quiet and reserved. I always imagined you with someone a little more boisterous; like Jack. A male version of Jack."

Russell did sputter this time, beer getting on his shoes and falling through the grates.

"That would be the last thing I need. I like my teeth where they are, thanks." He mopped at his mouth with the back of his arm. "But you're right. He isn't the type of person I'd usually be interested in. But it's not like it matters anyway."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't be interested."

"How do you know?"

"Call it a hunch based on how deeply in love he is with his wife, may she rest in peace, and, oh yeah, his kid." The beer was starting to taste sour, to match his mood. He wanted to chuck it at the spinning engine coils and be done with it, but Tali hadn't been too pleased the last time he'd done that.

"So now you're an expert in xenosexuality?"

"Whosie whatsits?" There were far too many syllables in what the turian had just thrown him for Russell to keep up. He doubted he'd even be able to repeat it sober.

"All I'm saying is what may be a deal breaker for humans, to you, might not be for drell. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've heard of humans with families and mates still… dallying with members of the same sex."

"And where'd you hear something like that?"

"Trashy holos." He punctuated his point by taking another a swig. "And from what you've told me, it seems like Thane was more attracted to his wife's strength of character than her gender. If you like him, why not just tell him?"

Russell wasn't even sure how he would broach the subject. _Hi Thane. Nice day, isn't it? I was just wondering… Do you like dick?_ Yeah, no part of that could go wrong. However, Garrus did have a point. It couldn't hurt to try, save for the potentially mortifying encounters that often accompanied such an incident.

"I'll take it under advisement."

The turian's mandibles flapped as he took another self-satisfied swig. "Oh, you'll do it, even if I have to force you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Ah, C-c-commander," Donnelly stammered, a nervous grin crinkling his cheeks. "What brings you down into the depths?" He was unsure of whether he should be pleasantly surprised or panicked. Russell couldn't blame him.

His last visit to an occupied engine room had not been pretty. Garrus was laid up in the Medbay shot full of holes, one shallow breath from going tits up and Russell was to blame. Chakwas wouldn't let him into the see the extent of the damage, Garrus' condition too unstable. Unable to cope with feelings that would have had him off kilter sober, Russell blindly made his way to the engine room. It made sense, now that he thought about it. The third floor was a hive of activity, the only secluded area available to him was the forward battery and far too many memories lurked there. His own quarters were too far.

He surprised Donnelly and Daniels, and too high to see straight, forced them to evacuate at gunpoint. The room finally cleared, he'd screamed, raved and cried until his throat was raw. It hadn't been his finest hour; he'd hit bottom.

He had clawed his way back up since then but he was sure the memory lingered in the minds of the engineers as surely as it remained in his. He could have eked out the rest of his time on the SR-2 without ever again setting foot in this part of the ship, but his Executive Officer had other plans.

Rescuing the crew from being reduced to primordial sludge had helped him regain some of their esteem, but going around to each and every crewman and squaddie, checking on their wellbeing would do even more, or so Miranda would have him believe. It was embarrassing and demeaning; as if he was a misbehaved child subjected to forced contrition for breaking a playmate's toy. But the item he'd broken couldn't easily be repaired or replaced.

Russell linked his fingers against the small of his back to keep from crossing his arms over his chest. Kelly said the posture made him seem unapproachable.

"How are you holding up?"

Donnelly and his partner shared a brief look before he answered hesitantly, "Nothing abnormal to report. Engine output is-"

"I didn't ask about the engine, I asked about you."

"We're fine, Commander," Daniels stepped in for her dumbfounded partner. "Thanks for asking."

"Do you need anything?"

"Nothing I can think of off the top of my head. But don't offer Donnelly anything. He's one of those 'give him an inch, take the whole stick' types." She grinned, nudging Donnelly in the ribs.

Russell felt a knot of unease start to uncoil as Daniels salvaged the situation. This was starting to feel less like a bad idea. "Well if you need anything, put in a requisition order with Kelly or EDI, and I'll make sure we find time to get it." Relieved, he chanced patting Donnelly on the shoulder, in a gesture that should have been friendly but came across, in his eyes, as awkward. With as much composure as he could muster, he fled the engine room glad to have the task out of the way. That was the first of his stops that afternoon, and hopefully the hardest. _One down._

Each visit was as trying, if not more so, than the one before it. It wasn't that the crew was unreceptive to his plight. But their surprised expressions struck a chord in him; this wasn't like him. Going around, buddying up to the crew, after it might have been too little, too late, wasn't a very Russell thing to do at all. He'd always kept others at a distance, save for those who forced themselves into his life, but this... He didn't hate it, but he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He shook himself, trying to lift the malaise. Self-doubt wasn't something he allowed himself, even at his lowest. He wasn't one to waffle. He, above all others, was supposed to be sure of himself. He should know just who he was and what or _who_ he wanted.

He'd saved the area by the elevators on the third floor for the last part of his tour for obvious reasons. Garrus' words the other night had really worked their way under his skin. _Stupid turian_.

In his younger days, Russell had been a charmer, a risk taker. It hadn't always worked out well for him, but to think he'd been reduced to this; too afraid of rejection to ask a simple question. If his past self could see him now, he would make sure the current Russell died of embarrassment.

He walked up to the door of Life Support, his hands balled into fists. He took Saren head on; he challenged beings greater than himself on a regular basis, so this should have been nothing. As his fingers brushed the door panel, the door slide open and Thane started through it. His fingers touched the exposed patch of flesh just above where leather met scales as Thane walked into his hand. The scales were warm and smooth beneath his fingertips.

He withdrew a little slower than he should have and swiftly tucked his hand behind his back. "Sorry…" Heat crept up his neck and suddenly he hoped that blushing was not a universal concept.

"Pardon me." The drell gave a curt bow. "Russell," Thane said slowly trying to enunciate each syllable properly, "need me for something?" A dopey grin spread across Russell's face. It had taken some doing for the assassin to become comfortable enough to use his given name, but it was well worth the effort. He didn't want Thane to stand on ceremony when it was just the two of them, and partly, he wanted to hear how his name sounded coming from his lips. The rumbling emphasis his vocal patterns put on the R was particularly satisfying. The way the double-l's and double-s's tripped him up wasn't bad either.

"I'm making the rounds, trying to see how everyone's holding up."

"I don't suppose you need to ask me since we speak so frequently." Thane raised a brow ridge, almost imperceptibly so, a slight smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "But I am doing well, in case you were wondering." He straightened the hem of his jacket. "Did you get a chance to read that book I gave you?"

The dedicated datapad housing the book in question sat atop a stack of its neglected brothers on Russell's desk. He wasn't exactly a "reader," and even if he were, the title of the book was extremely off-putting: _The Fuck-Up._ What sort of title was that? Going by the author's name, it was a human work, but he couldn't fathom what it could be about. "I haven't gotten around to it yet, but I'll try to make time soon."

"I admit, is a bit difficult to get acquainted with in the beginning, but once you do, it's well worth it. You would like it. "

He'd rather take Thane's word for it. "Let me ask you something."

"By all means." Thane nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. Briefly, Russell wondered what that particular posture meant.

Blood rushed in Russell's ears as he tried to focus. This couldn't be as hard as he was making it, could it? _Suck it up and ask him. If he shoots you down, you at least have your answer. You'll live._ "Do you find—are you attracted to—"

Russell hadn't even heard the justicar approach, yet there she was beside them. She spared them each a nod. "Commander. Sere Krios." Her usual detached façade was securely in place but when she looked at Thane, Russell saw something else: warmth.

Thane returned the nod with one of his own and a smile. "I'll be along shortly," he said rather cryptically, leaving Russell to look covertly between the two. Samara touched Thane's arm before continuing towards her quarters and something inside Russell's chest burst.

Thane tipped his head again. "My apologies, you were saying, Russell?"

"Do you like… clawball?"

Thane cocked his head to the right and slowly blinked one set of eyelids and then the other. "I can't say that I've seen enough of it to have an opinion on the sport, really. Why do you ask?"

"There's a game coming on a little later and I wanted to know if you cared to watch it with me, —and Garrus —but I guess you'll be occupied, huh?" He nodded towards the observation deck, and Thane followed his line of sight.

"Ah, yes. I have an appointment to keep. Another time, then?"

"Yeah…" It made sense that the two of them would get friendly. They were next door to each other, lonely, and well matched in a number of ways. They were both well read, and he supposed, relatively close in age. Russell was… What could he possibly have to offer? He was a junky from the streets of Earth who was lucky he was able to read and write his own name. OK, so that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it didn't make the situation feel any less futile, or him less coarse by comparison.

The drell in question looked on, askance in the wake of Russell's silence. For an instant, Russell thought of telling him how he felt anyway just to get the weight off his chest. The idea of professing his affections by pressing Thane against his own door and ravaging him in a clichéd show of passion had occurred to him, but he didn't have the heart. He blew out a sigh, dragging a hand along the nape of his neck, pulling his gaze away from Thane's face; it was starting to hurt to look at him. "Sorry. I guess all of this extra duty has worn me out. I'll catch you later?"

"Of course," Thane said briskly and headed off towards the observation deck.

Safely in the elevator, Russell beat his head against one if its cool metal walls. Garrus' encouragement had gotten his hopes up, only to have them snuffed out. It was too much to hope that this would go right. After all he'd done, he didn't deserve for it to go right. _Stupid turian_.

He wouldn't let himself brood. He wasn't some moody teenager. He was Commander Shepard. He had bigger fish to fry that his love life. He repeated those words on the ride up to his loft and hoped that with time he would start to believe it. Solitude was often the best cure for a wounded heart, but it worked just as well on bruised egos.


	3. Chapter 3

What was supposed to be a few hours of sulking quickly turned into days. Like a fungus, his dower mood spread and took over everything. Russell wasn't even sure of what day it was, let alone the time, which is why it came as a shock when he woke up to find Kelly peering down at him.

"How did you get in here?" Eyes half-closed, he squinted up at her, wondering if she could tell he was scowling with the blanket covering the lower part of his face. His quarters were always locked. Always.

"I told EDI I needed to check on your wellbeing and she let me in, of course. We don't all have override codes." The redhead leaned against his fish tank looking down on him as if it was something she made a habit of doing.

"I did try to announce Yeoman Chambers, Commander," EDI's disembodied voice added soothingly, "but you were unresponsive. I thought it best that Ms. Chambers appraise your condition personally."

He logged that bit of information for later. Now he couldn't even trust the damn AI to let him have his privacy. Great. He rolled over away from her, only to feel the bed give under her weight as she sat near his feet.

"What is this about Kelly? I was about to go to sleep."

"That's the problem: it's 1530 and you're just now going to bed. No one's seen you in days, and the few that have said you seem out of it. Some of the crew is concerned."

"You can tell them that I'm alive and well," _and irritated, and tired._ "Is that all?"

"As your counselor… As your friend, _I'm_ concerned." He could feel her weight shifting, getting closer. He rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I'm fine, Kelly."

"I know that Miranda asked a lot of you when she set you up on that tour of the ship…"

"That's not it."

"… Are you still troubled by what happened at Project Base?"

Russell's jaw tightened. Pain spiked along its length and up towards his scalp. He hadn't ground his teeth in years, yet he'd been doing it nearly every night since he'd come back from that op. He still thought about the events that happened on that abysmal, God forsaken rock.

"That's not it and I'm done talking about that. I've just been busy," _stewing in my own self-pity_ he added. "My system's been thrown out of whack, but I'll get it together sooner or later. It's really not that big a deal."

"Alright. I won't prod you anymore. I just wanted to let you know that your presence is missed in certain parts of the ship."

"Like where?"

"The C.I.C, for one. The crew deck, for another."

"I go to those places."

"Only while everyone else is asleep. I hardly think that counts. It's almost like you're trying to avoid someone."

He hadn't meant to avoid Thane, or anyone else. The mere thought of the drell made his stomach do a flip, and he didn't want to risk seeing him until he had his head on straight. In truth, Russell had been busy with something other than feeling sorry for himself. Next on the to-do list Miranda had foisted on him was catching up on all the paperwork he'd been putting off. If he ever regretted anything, being "too busy" to handle when it had been relevant was at the top of the list. Staying away from Life Support had given him a lot of free time, and now seemed a good opportunity to play catch up. This heartsickness would pass, but after a week of convalescence, perhaps it was time to break his isolation.

"I'm not avoiding anyone, alright? I just need to get my sleep schedule straight."

The yeoman didn't look convinced.

"I'm going to forward you some literature on conflict resolution." She worked furiously on her omnitool, the orange light disrupting the cool blue emanating from the empty fish tank.

"You're wasting your time. I won't read it; I don't need it."

"Let's just call it insurance in case you ever do." Kelly continued typing away, oblivious to the tired glare he was throwing her way. _And she called herself empathetic_. "If you did have an issue with someone onboard, wouldn't it be better if what could be your last few weeks together went by peacefully? It's no fun parting on bad terms."

Russell grunted. He didn't want to admit that Kelly was right, she could very well have been wrong. He just wanted her to go away. But it felt like she was doing everything she could to extend her stay.

"EDI mentioned that you haven't been eating, either."

"I eat." Were there no blind spots in the AI's omnipresence?

"Dry rations aren't meant to sustain you forever. I'll have Gardner save you a plate of tonight's chow if you don't show up, which I'm willing to bet you won't."

"Thanks, Mom," he groused, pulling the blanket up to his ears. He had no way of knowing if that was how his mother would have truly behaved, but it felt appropriate. "Anything else?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself." She laid a hand on his shoulder in a truly maternal fashion as he'd seen demonstrated in sappy holovids. "We all make mistakes. It happens. But you can't beat yourself up for it forever," and with that, she let herself out.

"What was that all about?" he mumbled into the pillow. When he'd first returned from Project Base, when the thought of all those lost still kept him up at night, she'd told him it wasn't his fault. There was no way he could have known Amanda Kenson and her whole team were indoctrinated. He was lucky to make it back alive. For her to call it a mistake now was a heavy blow.

When fatigue finally reclaimed him, nightmares ensured the sleep wasn't restful. The mistakes he had tried to put behind him swarmed up around him, and tried to drag him back down. They replayed in succession, the details exaggerated and worse than they ever had been in life. He woke in a cold sweat, the image of Garrus laid up in the medbay full of tubes superimposed on his field of sight.

The packet of sand that had lain almost forgotten in the back of his dresser drawer called out to Russell. He had intended for it to serve as a reminder of just what he was trying to move on from, now it acted as a strong source of temptation. He should have thrown it away months ago: flushed it, spaced it, anything would have been better than the risk of screwing up now.

He was kneeling in front of his dresser before he registered being on his feet. Pants littered the floor around him and he gripped the package, no bigger than a credit chit, tightly in both hands. He just needed a pinch to go back to sleep, but when had he ever stopped at a pinch? Starting now, after so long, maybe he could control it this time. The paper rustling in his hands was loud, making his quarters seem cavernous. He'd just do it this one time, and then he'd toss it. Just this once.

"The best you can do is try to make amends and move forward, learning from your mistakes." Thane's voice came unbidden to his ear. The memory of the first time he'd sought the drell's counsel vividly replayed in his mind. Shaking hands shoved the package back into the dresser drawer and shut it. He'd come too far. He wouldn't let Thane's advice go to waste.

Crawling back into bed, Thane's voice reverberated in his mind, conjuring up his image. Russell shut his eyes against the thought, making a mental note to actually check those emails Kelly had forwarded him. He could not think of at least one redheaded crewmember he wanted to avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This chapter referenced a scene from Feet of Clay, for any who were curious.


	4. Chapter 4

Around 0345 hunger roused Russell enough to make him venture to the ominous third floor. He'd tried to harangue Garrus into meeting him at the elevator with food so he wouldn't have to set foot on the deck, but the turian claimed to be otherwise occupied.

He crept slowly past Life Support, holding his breath. Thane always seemed to sense his presence when he was on the deck. Russell had no idea why(though his money was on some extrasensory drell perception)or how, so he tried to cover all his bases.

He ambled down into the mess hall barefoot, wearing his most comfortable sweats with the hole in the right thigh. Since he'd retreated into himself he'd hadn't changed a stitch of clothing. He looked terrible but probably smelled worse.

As he ventured further into the dimmed canteen, he noticed a figure standing in the far corner near the coffeemaker. He could only think of one other soul who might be up, but he hoped it wasn't—

"Russell?" Thane's voice rippled across the darkened canteen and the human visibly flinched. Too late to turn back, he strode over to the counter as nonchalantly as he could, and tried to keep his eyes to himself. Thane had prepared for bed and shed his usual leather get up in favor of something more comfortable. With loose fitting pants, bare chest, bare feet, and a mug in hand, the drell looked startling at home in the military grade kitchen. It was a wonder his feet didn't freeze. Thane greeted him with a curt nod. "I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour."

"I could say the same." Russell stuck his head in the fridge as much to compose himself as to find what he'd come down here for. His plans to scurry back up to his loft with his plate of cold food flitted away as obligation reared its ugly head. He found the plate, hidden behind a bunch of ingredients that all looked alien to him and grabbed a pouch of juice while he was at it.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked, watching Thane from the corner of his eye as he shoved the plate in the microwave.

"A bit. I don't sleep much to begin with, but tonight I had some difficulty." Thane put a hand over the center of his chest.

"I'm guessing that tea's medicinal then?" The dark brown substance in the drell's mug didn't look the faintest bit appealing. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of it. It was earthy, as if someone had put a handful of soil in a cup.

Thane nodded. "And it doesn't taste very good, I'm afraid. Otherwise, I would have offered."

"S'alright. I'm not really much of a tea drinker, anyway." Russell slurped his juice, earning him a raised brow plate.

"Somehow I had a feeling." Thane gripped the mug with both hands, looking down into the dark liquid pensively. "Why might you be roaming about at this hour?"

"Catching up on some work." He shrugged. "You know how it is."

"Might this be at Operative Lawson's insistence?"

"It might." It didn't surprise Russell that Thane knew about his burden. Heck, maybe everyone knew. Then again, maybe he had some sort of secret covenant with Miranda, too. Russell didn't know anymore.

"Well. I won't keep you from your work..." The drell's voice trailed off and he paused midturn. He cocked his head to the side, staring at Russell as if he'd had an expletive written on his forehead.

"Thane, what—" but before Russell could finish his thought, Thane's hand was in his hair.

Thane smoothed a hand over Russell's head, gently grazing his scalp with his nails. When he reached the slope of Russell's neck, he lingered, long fingers tracing the strong line that lead towards the spectre's shoulders.

As abruptly as he started, he stopped. "I fear it may be time for a haircut."

Russell forced a cough to try and get the blood flowing back into his extremities. "What makes you say that?"

He touched Russell's hair again, ruffling what little there was. Russell shifted from foot to foot, pressing down the urge to take that very hand and hold it to his lips. Thane continued his inspection, oblivious of Russell's discomfort. "It looks uneven and unkempt compared to your usual appearance. _Shaggy._ " He tried the word on for size, and by the look on his face, he didn't care for it. "Of course, you could just be _growing_ _it_ _out_." Thane sipped from his mug, washing the alien term off his tongue. "But that didn't seem like you."

"I see..." Russell licked his lips. His whole mouth suddenly felt parched.

And as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, the drell bowed and walked off toward his quarters. Russell looked down at the depleted juice pack in his hand; he'd gripped it so tightly the last few droplets dribbled out of the straw and onto his fist. So maybe this moving on wouldn't be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Still haven't told him, huh?" the turian asked once Russell was close enough for a hushed whisper. The spectre fixed him with a hard glare that Garrus readily ignored... If a turian could look smug, Garrus was doing so right now. _When_ _did_ _he_ _even_ _get_ _here?_

"There's nothing to tell. He doesn't feel the same."

"We both know that's total shit. I saw that little _exchange_ ; how he was playing with your fring—er, hair."

"It doesn't have to mean anything." Russell pushed his food around on his plate. It smelled good. Hopefully, it tasted better than it looked; time had reduced it to different colored mounds of mush.

"Again, that's shit. That guy hardly talks to anyone on this boat, let alone feels comfortable enough to touch them."

"He talks to Samara…"

"And I talk to you. That doesn't mean that I wanna—that I'm interested in you that way."

"Doesn't it?"

Garrus looked at him, his mouth agape. "…Is that really how human courting works?"

Russell snickered behind his fist. "For some, but not all." He nudged the turian's leg underneath the table. "I'm just joking with you. Relax. Besides, you're not even my type. Far too pointy."

Garrus puffed his chest in a show of mock indignity. "I'll have you know that 'pointyness' is a desired trait in turians. Very macho."

Russell shook his head as much at himself as at Garrus. When they'd picked Thane up on Illium, Russell found him freaky and offputting. From his large doubled-lidded eyes, to his coloring that reminded him of a boa constrictor, Russell hadn't been interested in him at all. But Fate had a strange sense of humor. Various cleanup missions had forced the pair into close quarters, and when you're with someone nearly every day, it's hard not to pick up a thing or two about them.

Thane and Russell's lives paralleled in a lot of ways. Both had paths thrust on them that, if they'd been able to choose, they might have avoided. He'd never tried to do a tale of the tape on whose lot in life had been worse, but if he had to choose, Thane would have had that honor.

That was the first thing he'd grown to like about Thane. He hadn't had an easy go of it, but he would be the last person to complain. He'd suffered losses that only a few members of the crew could understand, and yet he carried on. It might not have been in the best way, but it could be worse; he could be dead.

That night in Dark Star when Thane had opened himself up and shared his problems for the sake of helping Russell with his own, something changed. Thane had showed him another side, he was approachable, he had flaws, and he could feel. And it made Russell realize he didn't know anything about him at all.

Without realizing it, Russell had started to see the drell differently. He listened to his stories with rapt attention. He found himself in Life Support more than his own quarters, and at some point, he admitted he just liked being around him. It was more than a case of the damaged licking each other's wounds. When he was around Thane, he wanted to be different. He wanted to be better. But he wasn't been sure why.

Despite his baggage, Thane was still poised and in control of himself in a way that Russell envied. And since setting his son on the right path, he'd even become hopeful. He never seemed mired in self-pity, unlike the commander himself. Russell knew he could learn something from him, so he continued to visit and listen.

Russell hadn't come into this with ulterior motives. Sitting Shiva had worked out so far, and he was content to keep it that way until the galaxy was at peace and he could reclaim his life, if he lived that long. But one night, when Thane was recounting a bittersweet memory from his training days, Russell found himself entranced by the way his lips moved. They looked so familiar, so human. He pondered them to the point that he wondered if they even tasted human and things got dicey after that.

"I mean what have you got to lose?" Garrus said, pulling him from his thoughts. "He says he digs you too, and you walk off into the sunset together. Or he declines and you're depressed for a while. You'll eventually bounce back. You always do. Either way, you'll stop fretting over it like some love struck teenager."

"Stuff it, Scarface."

"Is that an order?"

"Don't you have something to take care of?"

"Actually, I don't. Funny thing, we turians sometimes have to eat and sleep. Damn if it's not inefficient, but what can you do?" The turian rose with a languid stretch and headed for the small dextro fridge stocked for him and Tali.

"If he blows me off, I'm going to get drunk and cry all over your shoulder. You'll be a sopping mess," Russell shouted as the turian turned towards the forward battery.

"It would be an improvement!" he shouted over his shoulder, "I at least know how to handle you when you're drunk."

Finally truly lone, Russell ran a hand over the back of his head, resting it at the nape of his neck. His gaze drifted towards life support and he sighed.

Thane was right; he did need a haircut.

~oOo~

Keeping to his word, Russell sat in front of his computer and opened up the messages from Kelly. Still brooding over her thoughtless words, he was determined to use her own advice against her.

The emails looked innocuous enough. Mixed in among the ads offering fixes for Russell supposed sexual dysfunction were a few from Chambers, K, dotted with annoying asterisk and capital letters. Russell opened the first one titled _How_ _To_ _Deal_ _With_ _That_ _Coworker_ _That_ _Urks_ _You_. His initial annoyance with Kelly abated; she was just trying to do her job, despite how hamfisted her methods might be. One peek couldn't hurt before he threw himself back in the paperwork.

The page that opened when he clicked the link made his mouth run dry. It was rife with pictures of drell that seemed to come in every conceivable color, running the gamut from a dark chocolate brown to jeweled tones of pinks and purples. They were all so unique and stunning that Russell wound up staring at the pictures for nearly a full minute before he read a single word.

He cataloged their differences, committing them to his inferior human memory: Individuals with warmer scale colors were stockier, while those with cooler tones were sleek, like a swimmer. The patterns on their scales varied, as did their eyes colors, lips, noses. They all looked so different, but they were all so… attractive, males and females. He'd never been interested in nonhumans before, but damn if he wasn't becoming a convert. Suddenly, he had an understanding of what asari enthusiast must feel.

This had to be a choice selection, a smattering of exceptional representatives for the sake of the article surely. But the drell in Life Support put them all to shame. Even to his foreign eye, there wasn't a drell among them who had features even remotely close to Thane's and he doubted they could match his wit.

Finally skimming the first few lines of text, Russell wasn't sure what to make of what he found. In drell society, there was no stated stringent concept of sexuality. Like the asari, they were drawn to individuals that piqued their interest for whatever reason. Of course, drell were encouraged to be fruitful and multiply, given their scarce number, but once that was accomplished, they did what they pleased, often subscribing to relationships that had upwards of three members.

His head was spinning. Why had she sent him this? Was he that transparent? He continued to scan the page until a heading caught his eye: Courting rituals and behaviors.

 _As_ _with_ _humans,_ _courting_ _behaviors_ _can_ _differ_ _between_ _individuals,_ _but_ _there_ _are_ _a_ _few_ _constants._ _It_ _is_ _not_ _uncommon_ _for_ _a_ _drell_ _to_ _provide_ _the_ _object_ _of_ _their_ _affection_ _with_ _a_ _gift_ _with_ _deeper_ _meaning._ _A_ _token_ _received_ _by_ _a_ _drell_ _should_ _never_ _be_ _taken_ _at_ _face_ _value._

The datapad Thane had given him called to Russell from the back of the drawer. He had intended to forget it existed, but in light of this new information, it made sense to give it a cursory look. Hope grew in him, again, even as he tried to temper his excitement with caution. He fished the datapad out and stared at it grudgingly, trying to will the words directly into his brain. He had time to devote to it now; he just hoped he wouldn't regret it.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure you want to do this, Shepard?"

Miranda stood at his arm, confidence exuding from every pore, but her hushed whisper belied her façade.

"We can't keep them in the dark forever. When would you rather we tell them, after the Alliance is on board and has me in cuffs?" Russell activated his terminal on the C.I.C and began the hunt for the announcement system. Miranda reached across him and in a few moments, pulled up the interface, but blocked it with her opened hand.

"I understand you think you owe it to the crew to be candid with them, but they knew what they were getting into when they signed up for this mission. No one is here against their will."

"Except me."

Miranda pushed on, ignoring the accusation. "What if they don't take the news well?"

"Then they can leave. Or, they can stay. Either way, the choice is theirs to make, not mine. They deserve to know that if they stay with us, when we head to Earth, they'll be in as thick as me. Risking your life for a 'noble' cause is one thing. This is something else."

Miranda searched his face with the same scrutinizing gaze she'd used when giving him the once over when they'd barely escaped Project Lazarus alive; she wanted to be sure he was functioning properly.

She shook her head, and stepped aside. "I hope this is the right decision."

"It's the only decision. I'm ready EDI."

A brief chime echoed throughout the ship, and the panel before Russell lit up green. It was time for him to suck it up and stop hesitating. It was time to move forward and stop letting the past define him. He tried to ignore the familiar itch prickling his skin.

"This is Commander Shepard speaking. As some of you may know, in a matter of weeks, we'll be heading to Earth where I will more than likely be taken into Alliance custody the loss of life in the Bahak system, as well as several counts of treason due to my association with Cerberus. And so might every one of you." He paused swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew he held every eye in the C.I.C., especially that of the counselor. He hadn't mentioned anything to her in any of their sessions, and he had just barely told Miranda minutes before. They would both agree that this was reckless, that there had to be some other way, but they didn't have time to while away.

"The Normandy is set to dock on the Omega by the end of the week, and then the Citadel shortly after. At that time, if anyone wishes to leave, they are free to go. You will be provided with enough resources to make tracks, but after that, you're on your own. There'll be no hard feelings; no one is going to come after you if you choose this route. If there are any questions or concerns, direct them to Kelly or EDI who will pass them along to me."

He released the button tried to ignore the eyes burning into him. He didn't want to see the shock, the confusion. He didn't want to second guess if he was doing the right thing. It was too late to take it back.

All he could do now was brace himself for the fall out.

~oOo~

There were no questions. No concerns. No comments asking why. At the very least, Russell had expected Miranda to storm into his room, demanding further explanation, but that didn't happen either. It was as if life on the Normandy had gone on as normal. He should have been happy that the crew was stalwart enough to take the news with such grace…

Instead, his insecurities rose up and kept him company in his empty loft. All of those late nights spent hunched over his terminal in solitude, filing, checking and double checking that they had enough resources to fund his planned exodus, and ultimately selling them off in a variety of auctions. He had been proud of himself initially. Now, he just felt foolish.

He wanted someone, just one person, to tell him that he hadn't wasted his time. It was selfish, and vain, but he needed to hear it. He hadn't been able to talk this over with anyone really, before he'd made that announcement. Garrus had been busy making plans to go to Palaven to see his mother before the universe came to a screeching halt, and that left him with one other option. But, Russell wouldn't go to him, he couldn't. Not after what he'd read.

The Fuck-Up was awful. The nameless main character was a complete asshole who was out for whatever he could get from people ended up in all manner of horrible situations with no one to blame but himself. He was selfish and his situation felt painfully familiar. Russell had quit the book halfway through.

The book itself hadn't been terrible, but the implications were what set Russell's teeth on edge. The article Kelly had given him said that there had to be a hidden meaning in this "gift". The only one meaning Russell could sort out was that Thane had held up a mirror to his faults.

The drell saw him the same way as everyone else, a fuck up, someone undeserving of consideration, respect… or love. Things Russell had known his whole life.

He should have known better. He was nothing but Earth trash and everyone he came across knew it like the title was tattooed across his damn forehead. Try as he might, he couldn't be anything but, and it shouldn't have surprised him when Thane started to see him as the same. This was what he got for opening himself up to someone willingly, enthusiastically. This was what he got for hoping—

"Commander," EDI's avatar cast its lavender light in the dimmed loft, "Operative Lawson requests your presence in her quarters."

Russell grimaced. "I'm busy."

A few moments passed. "Ms. Lawson says that if you don't come to her, she will come to you, and she has asked that I assure you that her visit will be most unpleasant."

Russell stood, readying to dig into the AI, but something made him pause: His complaint was with the human on the other end of the line. This was Miranda's message, not EDI's. He had a hunch of what this was about, and now seemed as good a time as any to clear the air.

"Tell her I'm on my way."

~oOo~

From the beginning, it felt like the Cerberus Operative resented Russell's presence. He was probably nothing like she expected: riddled with problems, weak, and something of a soft touch to top it all off. More often than not, she had seemed disappointed in him; an emotion Russell was all too familiar in divining from people's face. He'd grown to resent her for it.

After his "convalescence," as it was referred to in the presence of curious ears, something shifted in their relationship. Miranda stopped caring. It was as if Russell was no longer even worthy of her disdain, just another assignment for her to babysit until she could hand him off to someone else.

He knew a livid Executive officer probably waited for him in those plush quarters, but he couldn't be assed to care. He'd effectively hamstringed her by giving the crew his assent to leave, whatever that was worth, and she hated being out of the loop.

Russell walked in on a scene he couldn't have ever pictured with his limited imagination. Crammed on the couch were a quarian, a thief, and the Cerberus officer, the two humans dressed in simple sweats. The table in front of them littered with bottles of varying colors in shapes, no doubt, from Kasumi's stash.

"Took you long enough." Miranda griped. The liquor had made her accent so thick that even with the translator, Russell had to strain to understand her. "Let's get this bloody movie started then."

"Is this what you called me down here for?" Russell stood near the doorway, "A slumber party?" He couldn't be upset for wasting her time over how ridiculous it all seemed.

"It's movie night," Miranda said, more to her glass than to him. "No one's going to be painting anyone's nails or practice kissing, so you can get that out of your head right now."

Besides the fact that seemed impossible, given the headgear on at least one of the members of their party, it was the farthest thing from Russell's mind. He had better things to do, like brood.

"Come, sit." Tali leaned forward, trying to see around Miranda.

"Pass." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're underestimating what an honor it is to be the first man invited to movie night." Kasumi refilled the empty glasses on the table as she spoke, the lower half of her face the only part visible under a thick hood. Russell was starting to think the fashion piece was something of a fetish for the thief.

"That's rather progressive of you," Russell snorted, unsure of why he was still even there.

"Are you coming in to the bloody room or not?" Miranda glared up at him, her crisp blue eyes a little bleary and unfocused.

He hesitated another moment before letting the doors shut behind him. Tali took him by the arm and dragged him down between her and Miranda. A glass of frothy liquid shoved in his hand, the movie resumed.

The movie of choice was a quarian drama that thankfully had nothing to do about the people's exodus from their home world. It was campy and dry and twenty minutes in it devolved into a drinking game. Every time one of the leads said "kee'lah" or "bosh'tet," the viewers took a shot. Forty minutes in, all parties involved were too drunk to keep up with what little plot there was.

Russell had obtained a comfortable buzz. Not drunk enough to black out, but just enough that his previous troubles didn't seem nearly as important. He could have stayed there for a while, had Kasumi not opened her mouth.

"That was some speech you gave earlier, Shepard."

Russell shrugged. He felt uneasy, too blurry to see where she was going with this.

"It really seemed like it came out of left field. Letting all of the crew leave? I'm sure no one saw that coming."

Miranda snorted bitterly into her cup.

"It's not like we need them to pilot the ship. We did alright when they were taken by the Collectors."

"It was very big of you, Shepard," Tali chimed in.

"Don't mention it. Really." Russell buried his face in his cup, hoping to end that thread of conversation.

"So what's eating you?" Russell raised a brow at the thief, his mouth too full to answer. "You don't seem like yourself. We hardly ever see you around these parts. Did you and Thane have a falling out or something?"

He didn't know if it was the sappy movie, the alcohol, or just the fact that he actually felt at ease in this atmosphere, but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could decide if sharing was a good idea. "He hates me."

"Here we go," Miranda mumbled as she squeezed out of the huddle and planted herself in an armchair.

"Why would you think that?" Tali asked, finally pausing the movie. Kasumi closed the gap left by Miranda.

"He thinks I'm a loser. I _am_ a loser."

"No one thinks you're a loser, Shepard."

He glared in Miranda's direction, and the Operative rolled her eyes.

"Don't bring me into this."

"But you do. You've had a beef with me since I woke up. "

"I don't have 'beef', Shepard." Miranda was positively indignant for having to use such a term. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've just… never had to deal with anyone like you before. You're stubborn and pigheaded. You don't always think things through. But you're far from a loser.

"If a lesser man had been in your position, he would have gotten deeper into his addiction, rather than try to claw his way out of it. You're a better man than you give yourself credit for." The tone in her voice made it sound as if it had cost her to say the words aloud. Russell held her gaze before looking to the floor. He didn't know what to say. He'd ruined their evening.

"Let's try this again," Kasumi said, opening up the next can of worms, "Why do you think Thane hates you?"

Russell brought them up to speed on the datapad, Kelly's literature on drell customs, and the contents of the book. It all sounded odd outside of his head, but he didn't feel any better for it.

"I'm sure that's not true…" Tali touched his shoulder and that was all it took. Russell buried his face in his hands. This wasn't right. This wasn't the appropriate reaction to be having. He was so angry, so hurt by it all. Tears prickled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was break down and cry, but he could feel a deluge of tears coming.

"Kelly," Miranda scoffed. "She means well, but she mucks up as much as she helps…Look, if you really think he feels that way, then just ask him. It's obviously getting to you."

"I just can't..." He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"You're sweet on him, aren't you?" A grin quirked Miranda's lips.

He hesitated one moment too long. All three of the women broke in to broad grins, and he could feel the heat rising to his face. He tried to smooth it over with a little aggression, but he couldn't muster the energy. "What's it to you?" The words sounded more weary rather than hostile.

"It's nothing to me," she shrugged. "Is this what Garrus had to put up with on the old Normandy?"

He waved a disparaging gesture in the Operative's direction and turned bodily away from her. Coming here was a bad idea. He tried to get up, to return to his quarters, but the world began to spin. Tali helped him back down.

"Look, Shep, no one here thinks you're a loser, and I'm sure Thane feels the same way. Now just give me the bottle, take a nap, and you guys can hash it all out later." The plucky thief nicked the bottle from his grasp and slid over, giving him room. Russell stretched out along the couch, resting a head in Tali's lap, and his feet in Kasumi's. There was a high risk they would roll him off the couch and onto the floor, but he'd take it. He hadn't felt this free to be miserable in public in… well, ever. They had dragged his demons out into the light, and now they had to deal with the consequences.

Tali smoothed a hand over his head as they resumed the movie.

"Careful he doesn't vomit on you," Miranda chided from the safety of her chair.

"I think your couch would be worse off than me," Tali mused, petting him absently as one would a lap dog. The gesture seemed odd, given that quarians probably rarely, if ever, had pets. On the already crowded Migrant Fleet, they barely had room for more quarians, let alone a creature of another species. It would just be one more source of potential contamination.

He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off, but the next thing he knew, he was being jostled around. "Shepard, wake up," Tali cried from above him, her voice sounding strained. Quickly, he rolled to his feet, promptly banging his shins against the coffee table in the process. He reached for his sidearm, but it wasn't there. Slowly, it came back to him; where he was, how he'd gotten there. He looked to Tali as he doubled over, rubbing his sore legs.

The two human women laughed, Miranda seemed to do so a bit too heartily. The cast of her eyes suggested Tali was mortified.

"I'm sorry, Shepard. My legs were falling asleep."

"Besides, the movie's over." Miranda called, retreating to the back of her suite. "Not that we could hear the second half. That's some snore you've got. I thought we would have fixed that."

"Consider it an oversight," Russell said, carefully rising to his full height. "It's been fun ladies." If you could call getting drunk and crying like a teenaged girl 'fun'. "We should do it again real soon," and by soon, he meant never.

"Oh, definitely," Kasumi called to his back and he could hear the grin in her voice. "Next time, we'll do it at your place."


	6. Chapter 6

Omega was as dank a pit as it ever was. A sense of hopelessness saturated the station's artificial air and seeped into the Normandy herself. Her commander was far from immune. Since arriving, he'd passed his time in his quarters, pondering his empty fish tank.

He'd walked but the damn thing at least a hundred times, but had never bothered to look—really look—at it. It looked unnatural barren, devoid of any form of aquatic life without so much as algae or a snail sticking to the glass. He'd done it a great disservice by neglecting it all this time.

The door to his quarters swung open and in walked Garrus, looking rather stately in his new hardsuit. Russell had been right in thinking this new rig would suit him better than the down on his luck vigilante look he'd been wearing before. Neon lights considered, he didn't look half bad. Once you got around the sharp edges and the fierce appearance, Garrus wasn't a bad looking guy, really. Why hadn't Russell noticed it before?

As the turian approached Russell where he perched on the bed, dangerous thoughts began to form. Why hadn't Russell just fallen for Garrus instead? He really understood Russell. There was a bond between them that didn't have to be explained. All of this would have been so much easier if he'd just opened his eyes and saw the turian right in front of him.

The bed dipped when Garrus sat beside him and for a moment, Russell doubted whether it could hold both man and armored turian.

"Hey. You aren't still moping in here, are you?"

 _Yes._ "Of course not. I'm Commander Goddam Shepard." He made the title sound like a reluctant admission, lacking the bravado it deserved.

Garrus bumped him with his heavily plated shoulder. "Cut that shit out. People are going to think you've died, or worse, start to doubt your commitment, if you don't put in an appearance once in a while. Besides, I can't keep feeding you forever." Garrus held out a sealed container from the galley that Russell greedily accepted. It was rice and stewed meat, two things Russell dared anyone to screw up. Russell popped the top, ignored the accompanying spork and dug in with his hands. It was the first meal he'd eaten all day. Garrus shook his head and sighed. "Reminds me of a pyjak I had as a kid. It hitched a ride home with us from vacation one year. I tried to keep it hidden from my parents in my bedroom closet. It ate sort of like that... didn't turn out too well for him, though."

"Thanks for the anecdote, smart ass."

"My pleasure." Garrus' mandibles twitched. "When you're done with that, Mordin, Jack and Zaeed are getting ready to disembark. The squad's meeting up in Kasumi's room. You should put in some face time."

"I think I'll pass." Russell shook runny sauce off his fingers into the tray. "I don't think my liver can stand any more booze at the moment, augmented or not."

"So don't drink."

"And I don't think—"

"Don't be such a coward." Russell recognized that tone; Garrus had had enough. "I know things didn't turn out how you wanted with Thane. I know, it's hard. I get it." He held up a hand to ward off any rebuttals. "Let me get this out, then you can say what you want or kick me out, or whatever. I know things didn't go how you would have liked, but you still have a duty to this ship, to this crew. Yes, Thane will likely be there, but you don't have to talk to him. Just say your goodbyes, and you can scamper back up here like a good little pyjack. It won't kill you to share the same air with him for five minutes.

"And if I can say so, I still think you're being stupid about this whole thing. You never even asked him if what you read was true." Russell had given him an inch, so the turian was taking the yard.

Russell shrugged, helplessly. "Those are the breaks."

"'The breaks' stink. You make your own breaks. I won't push you. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Russell twitched at the dressing down. Even now, he still wasn't used to be talking like that, even from a friend. If it were anyone else, he would have found himself ass over elbows in the elevator on his way down to the crew deck. But it was Garrus saying these things, all of them true.

Suddenly, the reason why he'd never considered advancing their relationship clicked: They were already as far as they could go. He knew him better than anyone else ever could. He was like a brother to him—no, closer than that. "How's your mom doing?" Russell asked and Garrus visibly relaxed.

"She's... better, I think. She's not getting any worse, so that's something. All the same, I'd like to see for myself. It's been a while since I was home."

Russell stood and stretching out the kinks lying around all day had worked into his shoulders. "Alright. You win. Let me get a shower, and I'll be right down."

"Ah, no. I'm not taking any chances. I'll wait here and escort you down myself." Garrus settled back on the bed, starting his own staring contest with the fish tank.

Russell paused on the stairs, stripping off his shirt and tossing it at the turian. "How about you escort me to the shower, too?"

Garrus just managed to dodge the odiferous garment. "Because I know I'm not who you really want in there with you. I won't be some consolation prize."

"And if you were?"

Garrus hesitated and it was all the answer Russell needed.

"I'd think about it."

~oOo~

Russell never thought the day would come when he would actually miss Jack or Zaeed. He hadn't taken the time to get close to them, but now that he knew they weren't waiting in the belly of the ship with some unneeded sass, he felt their absence. The impromptu farewell party had been short and sweet. No one got misty eyed, but there was a sense of grudging respect around the group that had just gotten smaller. Mordin was going to check in on his clinic until something else of interest came along. Jack and Zaeed were "just going to do whatever the Hell they wanted" though they didn't specify if they would be doing it solo or as a couple of sorts.

Russell didn't ask for a tally on how many crewmen they had lost when they'd left Omega, but he'd hoped, when they were done with the Citadel, they'd have enough make it to Earth. Otherwise, he might be hitchhiking.

There were no organized goodbyes this time around. Those departing on the hub simply did just that. Wrex sent a liaison to collect grunt and take him to Tuchanka and Kasumi just disappeared without saying a word. Russell offered to take Garrus to meet his flight home, but he had other plans. Ever since he'd left the C-Sec for his new life on Omega, he'd been maintaining his apartment and now, he was loaning it to Tali.

Being exiled from the Migrant Fleet left the quarian few places to go. Tali had already gone through enough; he wouldn't have her rot in an Alliance prison right beside him.

Russell and Garrus had worked out the particulars: Russell would be paying for food and utilities, and Garrus had a handle on the rent. Russell had agreed to take her later, but Garrus had stepped in. It made more sense for Garrus to do it since he knew all of the codes she would need by heart, and it was on the way to the dock where his ride home waited. Russell could have tagged along, but that would have made him a third wheel.

The hardest part of their stay over with, Russell needed a moment to collect himself. He headed down to the cargo hold with the intention of relieving some pent up stress like he'd done so many times before, but as soon as he stepped off the elevators, the silence crushed in on him. There was no one to chat with, no one to hold his bag. His place of refuge was starting to feel like a tomb.

 _You asked for this,_ he reminded himself and started his routine.

He hadn't been on the bag ten minutes before he heard someone slowly crossing the mats towards him.

"Very good," familiar deep tones called out to him from behind. "A few weeks ago, I would have gotten much closer before you noticed my presence."

"What are you still doing here?" Hostility was present in his voice, but Russell tried to shake it off. He was moving on from this. He turned to apologize, but his mouth went dry.

Thane wore a white shirt, similar to a tank top with a modified neck that left a little more chest exposed than usual and a pair of dark gray shorts that hit him at the knees. A thin strap of leather crossed his torso, pressing the shirt to it. Russell Had never seen Thane's bare limbs before, but they bore markings similar to those on the back of his neck. Russell fought off thoughts of how far up his legs they went and where they might converge.

Russell suddenly felt very ashamed. He hadn't spoken to Thane since he'd read that book The fact that he looked better out of his leather getup had nothing to do it, nothing at all.

He cleared his throat. "I thought you'd be with Kolyat by now."

"Yes, well, I did spend some time with him in the past few days, but he is a grown man after all. I feel an extended visit might cramp his style."

"Did he say that himself?" Russell's mind blared at him to mind his own business, but he couldn't squelch the protectiveness that had risen up. Deep at the heart of it, he still considered Thane a friend, and an affront, even from his own snot nosed kid wouldn't stand.

"Not in so many words, but he has started a life of his own here. I will see him again and spend some more time, but not just yet. Right now, I was hoping I might convince you to spar with me." Thane slipped the strap off his back. It was wrapped around two short staves made of wood so dark gray they were almost black. Tape was wound around one end of each stick, apparently for grip. "They're used for knife fighting training," Thane said, eager to share information.

Growing up on the streets, guns were a luxury reserved for gang leaders, as a show of status. For protection the lesser members had to rely on their fists or a blade. Russell wasn't a stranger to knife fighting, but he definitely was rusty. And he was sure his version was nothing like this. "I doubt I'd be much help. I haven't used a knife since I left Earth. I doubt I'd be very good."

"I'm not proficient myself, but practice is how you get better."

"I think you have to know something to start with in order to get better."

"Of course. I can show you the basics. Afterwards, we can switch to boxing if you'd like."

Russell arched a brow. "You know how to box?"

"Not well. It hasn't been high on my list of techniques to refine. But I can hold my own." Thane twirled the stick over his hand idly, spinning it over his knuckles and into his palm and then starting the process over. ' _Not proficient' my ass._

"Of course, you know how to box. What don't you know?" Russell stripped off his gloves and threw them beside the punching bag.

Thane shrugged. "When you get to be as old as I am, if you're lucky, you pick up a thing or two."

"Are you sure all of this is wise?" Russell had seen the files Liara gleaned from the Shadow Broker's database. He knew of Thane's condition and that he needed moderate activity. He was no doctor, but this seemed like it might be too much.

Thane didn't give any outward signs of disapproval, but something between them shifted. "I assure you, I'm still far from being an invalid."

Russell held out his hand for one of the sticks and Thane obliged him with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Now do as I do." Thane dropped down, bending his knees, holding his staff in front of his face with one hand. Russell tried to imitate him, but knew he was off when Thane scooted forward, nudged his feet further apart with his own and darted back.

"Hold the ;akesh the way you would a large knife."

"The what?"

Thane gestured to the staff in his hand. Russell adjusted his grip, holding the staff at about the middle.

"You're going to be slicing with it, not stabbing."

"You said how I'd hold a knife. This is how I'd hold a knife."

Thane pursed his lips but said nothing else. Lightening quick, he lashed out with his stick and rapped Russell's knuckles.

"Son of a bitch!" The spectre resisted the urge to drop the lakesh and press his sore fingers to his lips.

"If you were holding it like I said, I wouldn't have been able to do that. In this exercise, the 'blades' will be touching quite a bit. If it were a real knife, you would be cutting your fingers off."

"That's not a knife. That's a sword."

"My mistake. I meant something more along the lines of a ma-che-te." Thane sounded out the word and Russell felt gooseflesh prickle the back of his neck. "Not a pocket knife."

Russell kept his comments to himself as he slid his hand down to grip the tapped end. He really wanted to throw the stick down, go back upstairs and take a shower, but he felt more was on the line than the safety of his fingers.

He felt he was being tested. The memory of the book and all it could mean flashed in his mind. He wasn't a fuck up. He wouldn't quit. And he would show the drell.

At first, his movements were clumsy, like his feet were encased in lead, but slowly, he started to catch on. Though nowhere near Thane's level, Russell started to catch on. He was able to see some of Thane's movements and could block effectively. They picked up speed, sweat running down the back of Russell's neck, as Thane murmured commands.

"Swing from your shoulder and follow through with your hips. And for the last time: stop crossing up your feet. You'll trip." Russell didn't have time to roll his eyes before Thane made a swipe at his head.

Russell stepped back, narrowly avoiding it, and countered with an attack of his own. The stick made contact with Thane's side. The drell gasped, a hand gripping his side, he curled up around the blow.

Russell lowered his stick, and stepped forward to check on Thane. In that moment's hesitation, Thane capitalized, disarming Russell and pressing him against the bulkhead, the lakesh stick against his throat. "If I was in distress, I would have told you. Don't _ever_ let your guard down until you're certain that it's over." His eyes burned as he watched Russell intently, as if making certain he got the point. Then, he kissed him.

This wasn't some chaste peck, easy to misinterpret. It was hungry and desperate, and without thinking, Russell responded. Thane's mouth was softer than he expected. His lips plump and full, that he couldn't resist nibbling. Thane's breath hitched as he dropped his lakesh staff and curled a hand against the back of Russell's neck, pulling him closer while the other fisted his shirt.

Russell pulled back, letting his fingers trail over the unfamiliar contours of the drell's face. He ran a thumb over his cheek and back towards the ribbing that felt more delicate than it looked. Thane sighed against his mouth, laying a hand on Russell's arm. He didn't move to stop him, but gently rubbed the inside of his wrist with his thumb.

Once Russell's hormones settled down, he simply stared at the drell.

"I thought you hated my guts."

Thane looked outright appalled. "What would have given you that idea?" Russell explained about Kelly and the book. Thane looked chagrined. "Miss Chambers was right about the gift. But it's more than that. I wasn't calling you a...The protagonist. Rather I was trying to show you how you are not at all like him. Surely, you both did have some traits in common, but you differ in that you actually want to make something of yourself rather than just accepting your lot. I should have clarified. Forgive me. I am rusty at this."

"Why didn't you just come out and tell me how you felt?"

"Why didn't you? Granted, you telegraph everything about yourself, but even I can fall pray to jumping to conclusions."

Russell said nothing as an embarrassed flush burned his ears. "I thought you had rejected me," he said, too ashamed to look Thane in the eye. "Once I finished the book, I thought it was all over. I thought I should just try to move on."

Thane chuckled sadly, an odd sound coming from the drell. "I suppose we aren't so different after all... I thought _you_ had rejected _me_."

"How could I reject you if I didn't even know you were on the table?"

"Remember that I didn't know this. I was lax in looking up human courting customs. I just tried to stick with what I knew. It sounds very foolish said aloud." Thane set off another bout of self-deprecating laughter. Russell could relate.

"Admittedly, I do come with a certain amount of baggage... Having had time to think on it, I accepted the fact that you might have reconsidered your feelings, not that you had told me. When you stopped showing up, I thought you no longer desired my company. That's why I didn't seek you out. I thought it best if I didn't chase after you. It worked for me once, I didn't think it wise to tempt Fate and try it a second time.

"Samara agreed with me. Her lot in life has battered her, and left her a stranger to optimism and hope. She suggested I leave you be, and by Arashu's love, I did try. But after your speech, after the members of the squad left… I knew I'd find you here. Those weren't easy things to go through with. I thought you might need to vent. I just wanted to help you take your mind off it for a little while. If I couldn't be your lover, I could at least try to be a friend to you, and you looked like you needed one."

He paused, no doubt replaying what had happened in his mind. "But I got carried away, the rush of adrenaline… I suppose you know what that's like."

It all sounded like something about of a bad rom-com vid. Thing like this weren't supposed to happen in real life. He leaned back against the bulkhead, running a hand over his short, coarse hair. "So what do we do now?"

Thane shrugged lightly. "I've told you my feelings. I've yet to hear yours."

"How about I show you?" Russell cupped either side of Thane's face and brought it to his. He laid a soft kiss against Thane's lips and the drell sighed. Russell had to walk away and move on from so many things: the death of his family, the Reds, Ivan. It was good to not have to let go for once, to be able to hold on to something he wanted, something he needed.

Russell went weak in the knees. He wanted to think it was from emotion, but he knew it was from something rooted more in real life. His lips started to go numb next, which was a shame, considering how much he was enjoying himself. He knees finally gave out and he sank into the mats beneath them.

"I was afraid this might happen," Thane said, worry making small creases in his forehead as he helped Russell to the floor. "It's the hallucinogens."

"Worth it," Russell gurgled, trying not to be distracted by the ripples of color swirling around Thane's head. The green of Thane's own skin seemed more vibrant, popping against the kaleidoscope behind him. The drell smiled wearily.

"We'll see if you feel that way when you're nursing a headache in a few hours." He knelt beside Russell, running his hand over the human's forehead and into his hair, taking advantage of his compromising position. "I should get Doctor Chakwas."

He moved to rise, but Russell flopped an arm in his general direction. Two Thanes swam up in his vision, and he was unsure which was the original.

"Not yet," Russell mumbled, finally grasping the original Thane's arm. Thane allowed himself to be pulled down to the mats and laid beside Russell. His condition wasn't life threatening, he could still breathe, he had a sense of feeling in everything but his face, and to have Chakwas suddenly poking and prodding him would ruin the lovely sensation seeping into his bones.

Thane curled up next to him, resting on his elbow. "Were you really jealous of my friendship with Samara?" In Russell's state, he could only listen while Thane's voice took on myriad colors that rippled and danced overhead.

"I saw your face fall when we met her in the hallway that day. You left before I could even explain." The reproach in Thane's voice stung, even as he soothed his forehead.

"I was talking to her about you, if that makes you feel any better. I asked for advice on how I should approach you, how I should confess my feelings. She said it would be cruel for someone in my position to engage someone as young as you. I suppose she had a point.

"I meditated on it, prayed… But when I closed my eyes all I could see was you."

Thane coughed, and shifted uncomfortably. "I should get Doctor Chakwas. This isn't a conversation that's meant to be one-sided."

Russell shook his head, and curled up against Thane, balling his shirt in his fist. "Keep going," he croaked. He buried his face in the crook of Thane's neck and breathed deep. He smelled dry and clean with just the faintest hints of leather. He could feel Thane's heart pick up speed, just a fraction, and heard a faint, fluting noise from him.

"What more is there to say?"

"When did youv?" Shepard's mouth was dry, and his voice cracked. But Thane understood the question.

"I hope you know that you're expected to answer the same questions once you're well enough," Thane said. The drell looked downright uncomfortable now, the folds of his throat darkening. "The night we spoke in Dark Star Lounge."

Russell arched a brow at the risk of sparking a headache. Thane chuckled.

"You intrigued me. At first, you seemed like you encompassed anti-human propaganda would have you believe: arrogant, foolhardy, selfish. Much like the protagonist in the book I gave you." Russell scowled at the mention of that awful thing, but Thane continued to smooth his forehead, ignoring his sour look. "But, unlike him, and the stereotypes, you had key qualities that they would claim you lack: the ability to recognize faults in yourself and the desire to change. It is a most admirable trait.

"The more time I spent with you, the more I found to like about you. I thought we might have had some sort of connection. I waited for you to give me a sign, but it wasn't exactly what I expected." Thane sighed, looking down at him. "And my own response was less than adequate. I should get Doctor Chakwas."

The feeling was starting to come back to his face and lips, and the colors were dying down. He'd be alright. This wasn't at all how Russell imagined this playing out, though he'd given up on it happening at all. For all the trouble, for all the misunderstandings, if he could stay in this moment just a few minutes more, it would be all worth it.

"Let's just stay like this a little longer."


	7. Chapter 7

Russell was no stranger to blacking out in one place and waking up elsewhere, but typically he was lucky enough to know what had been the cause.

The last thing he could readily recall was staring up at the ceiling of the cargo hold, the same way he was staring up at the ceiling of his quarters now. Or at least, that's where he assumed he was.

Most places on the ship above the third level looked the same if you didn't have a view of the furniture or floor plan. It was too quiet to be the Medbay; he didn't hear the sound of monitors or respirators and the good doctor herself was nowhere in sight. If Chakwas was around, she would have started poking and prodding him by now.

But what had happened after he went down into the hold was the million credit question. All the evidence pointed to booze being the culprit, but his reserve of anything harder than a beer had run out weeks ago. Kasumi, purveyor of intoxicants had been off the ship for at least a day and had probably taken a good portion of the booze with her, not that he'd checked. Of course, there was also the part where he'd sworn off liquor, but that was beside the point. He'd gone down into the hold trying to hide from his problems. It wouldn't have surprised him if he'd broken his oath and tried to crawl into a bottle of whiskey or bourbon or whatever he could find.

He sat up slowly, surprised that his head was being so cooperative. He squinted around his surroundings, but something was different. The aquarium's light had been turned off, not that there was much to see besides empty water. The only illumination, as scarce as it was, came from the clock on the bed stand. Something in the darkness in front of him shifted and was caught in the faint orange light.

Perched on the end of his bed, was one drell assassin. Russell could just make out that he wasn't wearing his usual get up, but something looser, more suited to something like exercise. But why would he…

The information raced back to Russell inn a deluge, rather than the slow trickle it had been since he'd opened his eyes.

Thane had talked him into sparring, and in the end, things had gotten heated. One moment, Thane was charging him, eyes filled with bloodlust, the next, it was just plain lust. Russell recalled losing the feeling in his tongue, just after he'd felt Thane's, but that was it. Everything after that was a blur, but the important parts were becoming clearer.

Thane had confessed his mutual attraction as well as a familiar fear of rejection. If thane hadn't taken the proverbial bullet on this affair, they might have missed out on the pleasure of each other's company, no matter how brief it had been. But if Russell remembered correctly, it was also plenty pleasurable.

"You're finally awake," Thane said in a low voice, thick with fatigue. The light reflected in his eyes as he opened them, and Russell watched it move. He wondered, briefly, how good a drell's night vision was.

"How long was I out?" It was a little eerie hearing Thane, but not being able to see him. He was close enough to touch, but it was almost like they were communicating over the combat radio.

"About six hours." Thane shifted again and Russell heard his feet make contact with the floor. The lights in the room came on and brightened the room just enough so Russell didn't have to squint. Thane stretched his arms as he walked back towards the bed almost silently, coming to a stop in front of the spectre.

"Here, let me have a look at you." Tucking his fingers underneath Russell's chin, Thane leaned in close and turned his head to the left and then to the right.

"How bad was it?" Russell asked as the drell pried his eyes wide, checking his pupils. Russell could count on one hand the number of times Thane had been closer than the breadth of the table in life support would allow and the human found himself understandably distracted.

In all the hours they'd sat and chatted, Russell hadn't been able to discern the color of Thane's eyes. It was immediately apparent from the darkened sclera that they weren't human, but other than being attentive and capable of holding Russell's gaze as he spoke, he couldn't describe them. Now he could.

They were an odd mottled green, parts of dark almost matching the darkness around them, while others were so bright they seemed to vibrate. Altogether they unlike anything he'd seen in the human spectrum, even with the range of cosmetic augmentations available.

"According to Doctor Chakwas," Thane said pulling away. "Your reaction was relatively mild."

Russell laughed dryly, finding the air overwarm and hard to inhale. "She has a funny idea of what 'mild' means."

"It could have been much worse. You aren't breaking out in a rash. You're no longer delirious."

"No, I was just passed out for a quarter of the day."

"Yes, well." Thane started fidgeting on the spot. Russell raised a brow. He'd never seen him openly nervous, except for when they'd tried to save Kolyat.

"It was the poison that knocked you out, but it wasn't what kept you there.

"Mordin… assumed this might happen and left us something of a safety net."

Russell shouldn't have been so shocked. Nearly every time he was down in the lab, the wizened professor tried to pin him down to launch into a lecture on interspecies relations. Russell always declined, sometimes politely, sometimes not, opting to do his research on his own instead. He sort of wished he'd taken the time to listen now, but the idea of having that sort of conversation with Mordin made him infinitely uncomfortable. He knew the salarian was looking at it from a purely clinical perspective, but that hadn't made it any easier to take. Still, he should have listened. Now he owed the old salarian a debt of gratitude.

"By the time Chakwas made it to the cargo bay, the toxin had taken hold." Thane paused, rolling his neck and shoulders. "You claimed to have a winning strategy for dealing with the Reapers, the Council, and quite a few human names I'm unfamiliar with." Thane rattled off the names of Russell's former compatriots in the Reds and a kid who picked on him at the orphanage.

Russell blew a frustrated breath through his nose, as he wiped a hand down his face, as if that would save him from this embarrassment. At least it couldn't get worse.

"You sounded very convincing," Thane went on, "until you demanded I remove my pants."

It could get worse.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Thane made no effort to mask his amusement. "Your exact words 'Take off your damn pants, already.'" Russell covered his face with his hands and threw himself back on the bed. Thane chuckled but quickly tried to cover it with a cough.

"You got grabby after that." Russell interrupted with a loud groan. "And Chakwas thought it was a good idea to sedate you until Mordin's treatment took effect. The sedative was mild, but there were complications." There went that word again, "mild." He might have to request that Thane or Chakwas remove it from their vocabulary. "Mordin's drug intensified the sedative, turning one hour of sleep into six."

"Christ," Russell muttered. No wonder he felt disoriented; he'd just emerged from a mini-coma.

"Chakwas monitored you in the Medbay for the first few hours. Once it was clear you were out of danger and we just had to wait until the sedative worked its way out of your system, I asked her if I might make you more comfortable."

"You brought me up here by yourself?" Russell's _extensive_ research told him that drell had denser muscles than humans, but he still found it difficult to digest. Thane was almost a head shorter than him. It couldn't have been easy.

"You aren't light by any stretch, but I managed."

Was… was Thane poking fun at him?

"And you stayed here, with me, this whole time?"

"Yes…" Thane used the tone he reserved for when Russell was being particularly dense. "The doctor was roused from bed, so I was also doing her a service."

"Come on then." Russell grabbed Thane's forearm and pulled, but the drell didn't budge. The idea that he'd carried him up here was becoming easier to believe by the second.

"Siha, what are you—"

"Have you had a chance to rest yet?"

"My body requires little sleep," Thane said quickly, realization dawning on him. "And I've spent my time in my meditations so—"

"So that's a 'no,' then," Russell cut across. The corners of Thane's mouth dipped down ever so slightly in annoyance. He hated being interrupted, especially when it was with something that would prove him wrong. He'd never said as much with words, but Russell knew.

"Get your ass up here, Krios. That's an order."

"I listen to your orders at _my_ leisure," Thane grumbled, even as he climbed into bed.

He kept a modest distance between them his arms folded over his chest, hands tucked into the crook of his elbow. Flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. With that kind of posture, one might think he didn't want to be there.

Russell turned on his side and closed most of the gap. He brushed his fingertips against the bare shoulder closest to him, tracing one of the darker lines.

"Thanks," Russell mumbled, the word barely recognizable when he was done with it. "For hauling me up here, for watching me."

Thane glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, closed them, and sighed. "It was nothing."

"How long does this drug last?"

"Ten hours. It works better if you have a dose before… any activity."

"Did Mordin leave us anything else in that safety net?" Russell said, eager to change the mood. He didn't think having to lay down was that much of a concession.

When you didn't have a sex life of your own, it freed you up to ponder the relations of others, and if Mordin had spent the time to concoct a treatment for something that might not have happened, he might have had more up his sleeve.

Suddenly, a strange, low sound filled Russell's ears and he perked up, looking around the cabin. It was as if something electronic was vibrating at a low frequency, almost lazily, nearby.

Several seconds later, Russell figured out the sound was coming from beside him.

"He left some… items." The ribbing of Thane's throat darkened in patches, mostly along his jaw. "I placed them in the nightstand."

"Thane," Russell slid closer until he was nearly pressed against the assassin's side. "Are you embarrassed?" He couldn't imagine what Mordin could have assembled that would make Thane so uncomfortable. He was tempted to have a look at the contents of the drawer, but the urge to remain where he was, was far stronger. But perhaps it was more than that.

"There were quite a few things that I'm not… exactly familiar with, but I'm not ashamed of that." He turned to his side, fixing Russell with a somber gaze. He looked like someone had kicked his pet varren.

"I was very afraid for you today." He wouldn't meet Russell's gaze, instead focusing on the narrow strip of sheet between them. "I acted rashly. I didn't prepare thoroughly enough and my impulsiveness almost came at a price that was too high to pay.

"If something had happened…"

"But it didn't." Russell cupped Thane's cheek and forced him to look at him. "It'll take more than a kiss to put me down for the count."

"I'm being serious, siha."

"So am I. You can't just be so overly cautious for every little thing." Russell was fully aware of the irony of such a statement coming from him. "Even if we didn't have Mordin's remedy, it wasn't like it was something that's fatal." _Right…?_

"If you'd waited, we might have missed out on this." The slightest touch of his mouth on Thane's and the drell's breath hitched. Pressing harder pulled an indistinct rumble, different from the sound before, less anxious.

Russell's fingers drifted down Thane's face. He touched the grazed the folds of his neck, Thane seized his hand.

"If we are to continue, I would ask that we do so cautiously. I don't want a repeat of the last time."

"Of course," Russell tossed him a lopsided grin. "We'll go at your pace." Thane's number one concern was Russell's wellbeing, there was no doubt of that, and Russell had similar concerns. Thane was his first drell, and Russell was probably a double first for him being his first human and perhaps his first male. Russell's plan, not that he'd spent much time on it, was to go slow.

"You decide just how carefully we go."

Russell's words must have been enough to appease Thane, because the next moment he was on the offensive, sucking, sucking, _biting_. He was downright aggressive, not that Russell minded.

Rough hands slipped beneath Russell's shirt and across the small of his back. The feel of them reminded his of his early training days when his own hands were always thick with callouses. As Thane moved up, a tender touch passing over ribs, and shoulders, he brought Russell's shirt with him revealing more and more brown flesh.

Russell felt the heat of Thane's gaze as it moved over his bare skin, absorbing him, committing him to memory. The idea was flattering on the surface, but Russell squirmed self-consciously as it was put in practice. Would his body hair, as sparse as it was, freak Thane out? What about his nipples? Their very existence confused Russell at times, how would Thane take it? And what about the smell? He'd worked up a sweat down in the hold, and he was sure to he reeked by now.

So wrapped up in his own worries, the human didn't notice Thane had moved until he felt his breath on his bare torso.

The closeness involved in sparring was leagues apart from the intimacy he'd felt in this moment. There were no goals, no aggression, no concentration, just two hearts trying desperately to feel each other out.

Russell pulled back and tugged the drell's shirt off over his head. He shouldn't be the only one feeling awkward and exposed.

Thane was completely devoid of mammalian nuances, as expected, but it was still a jarring sight. His chest and abdomen were very humanlike, save for what they lacked, were smooth green planes save for the occasional freckling of darker scales. They felt smooth, almost as if they'd been polished, under his palm.

Thane's eyes were on him again, watching Russell intently for some sign of disapproval or disgust, an utterly ridiculous concern. What he got instead was a pair of strong hands on his hips, rolling him onto his back, and a hot mouth against his throat.

Thane's fingers stroked the back of Russell's neck, quietly urging him closer. That rumbling purr that had persisted throughout intensified. Russell grinned. Clearly, he was doing something right.

"Commander." Russell didn't have to turn to see her avatar to know that it brightened up the little corner by the door. Her flat intonations had become as familiar to him as his own voice.

There was something about EDI's timing, always conveniently bearing the worst messages at the worst times that made Russell think she harbored a grudge. Perhaps it was payback for Russell's attitude about having an artificial intelligence on the ship when they first met that she was exacting at her leisure. He couldn't remember the results of any intellectual debates on whether or not AIs were capable of hatred.

Painfully, Russell pried himself from Thane to call out over his shoulder. "A little busy, EDI."

"Understood. However, Operative Lawson is on her way to the loft. She claims she will only knock once before entering."

Russell scowled as he considered his options; he could intercept Miranda before she got off the elevator, hoping she wouldn't need too much of his time and send her back down without incident or he could do nothing. He could stay as he was and treat her to an unrivaled eyeful, the news of which would sweep the remaining members of the ship like wildfire. But he didn't care about that. Right now, he just _really_ didn't want to move.

"Personally," Thane said, interrupting Russell's dark musing. "I'd rather reserve my nudity for an audience of one."

Russell looked back at him, into those misty greens.

"How did you—"

"Call it a hunch." He leaned up and kissed the tip of Russell's nose.

With a sigh, Russell stood, snatching his shirt from the floor. As he headed for the door, the bed creaked behind him, telling him Thane was doing the same. What Miranda wanted had _better_ be damn well worth it. After a few adjustments, he intercepted Miranda at the door.

"What can I do for you?"

"You're needed on the bridge in twenty." Miranda looked as pressed and fresh as ever, even though there was probably next to no one to put on for. Her presence brought back the reality of Russell's situation back to him with startling clarity.

He'd given the crew members leave to defect and he hadn't taken a tally of just who he had left. That was something he needed to get done as soon as possible.

"You could have had, EDI relay that," Russell said over crossed arms, trying not to sound too bitter about having his responsibilities tossed back in his face.

"Oh, I could have," she grinned coyly. "But I heard about your little exploit last night and I wanted to see how you were doing." She cast her gaze over him. "From the looks of things, you're doing fine."

She turned on her heel. "We depart in twenty. Make sure you're there," and before Russell could respond, she was gone. He didn't know why he was needed. They'd managed takeoff hundreds of times without him, what was so different now?

There was no one to answer his questions but Thane, and he doubted the assassin knew more than he did. He went back into the room to find the assassin had redressed, such as it was, and was pulling on his shoes.

Sixteen minutes later, Russell stepped off the elevator into a fully populated C.I.C. Every station was manned by a familiar face, though he didn't know them all by name. No one acknowledged him with more than a casual glance, as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired over the last week and a half.

Russell bit down on his lips, to keep the emotions threatening to overtake him at bay. A weeping C.O. wouldn't be proper, not when all of these men and women were here at heavy personal risk.

Joker's voice filtered in over the ship wide speakers. "What's our heading, Commander?" And then all eyes were on Russell.

He coughed to clear the emotion from his throat. "Take us to Earth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I had intended to end this a few chapters after this one (and before ME3) but with the next game so close, I think I will hold off until the end of March for the next update. It'll give me, and hopefully most of you guys enough time to complete the rest of the game so it won't be too spoilery if there are any major developments with these characters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the read and have a great launch!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _AN_** : Continued in "Shrines"

Russell was back on Earth, the one planet he'd hoped to never set foot again. He was a long way from his Chicago stomping grounds filled with bad blood and worse memories, but even being a continent away didn't ease the hopelessness that was inextricably tied to his homeworld.

Once the Normandy had come into Earth's orbit, Hackett had given Russell and his crew two weeks to put his affairs in order, after which time, he and every soul aboard the Normandy were to turn themselves in. Hackett made it no secret that he was being generous. Russell promised that he, alone, would come in in five, so long as he was given unrestricted access to travel during that time.

Luckily, Russell's word still meant something to at least one person in the Alliance and he was given a reprieve. However, one of the conditions was that he had to wear a tracker. If he was even half a day over, the Alliance would have forces at the ready to drag him in.

A harsh wind kicked sand up and into Russell's eyes, the only uncovered portion of his face. He swore as he fought not to rub them. He'd learned the first time that happened that grinding the grains into his wind chapped face and tender eyes hurt like a _bitch_.

"I don't understand why you resist putting your goggles on," Thane rumbled from somewhere behind Russell. "They're meant to _prevent_ that from happening."

"They make my face sweat too much. Then that gets in my eyes, too, so I'm screwed either way." Russell said as he carefully brushed the sand off his lashes. "At least this way I look cool."

Thane rumbled his acknowledgement and went back to staring out over the sea of beige and brown that seemed to go on forever no matter where he looked.

 _The Sahara_...

Of all the places on Earth to visit, Russell never would have imagined he would ever come here. He hated heat in the extreme, and the few occasions when he'd had to deal with sand were less than pleasant. If he'd been picking a spot on the planet to enjoy his last few days of freedom, this wouldn't have been it. But he hadn't chosen this location for himself.

He'd gladly make the sacrifice. He'd suffer sand in every nook and cranny, deal with lips chapped beyond recognition. The sheer elation on Thane's face when they disembarked the Kodiak had made it all worth it. Even the two hour struggle with the tent was a pittance compared to what he'd gained.

"Are you quite sure you don't need help?" The sounds of the pieces of their temporary housing being clacked together in agitation along with the wind and the shifting sands masked Thane's approach and Russell tried not to look startled when the drell suddenly appeared at his side. "I do have some experience in this area."

Russell wanted Thane to use this time to rest. Their fighting was over for the time being. There was no reason left for him to try so hard. He wanted to be able to spend as much time as possible, yet they were about to be torn apart in one way or another. In all the time they'd known each other, science had yet to make any advancement in the treatment of Thane's condition. Funny that they could keep President Huerta, a man who had been brain dead for several minutes, in office, but no one could make a significant breakthrough with a condition that, in Russell's _very_ biased opinion, was far easier to deal with.

Passing through the crew deck late one evening, Russell ventured by the med bay and saw Thane being attended to Doctor Chakwas. A breathing mask on his face obscured his face as he sat on the table, a hand rubbing small circles on his chest. When he'd come to see Chakwas the next day, she'd told him it was just a stopgap measure, that Thane's situation was deteriorating slowly. She spared him anymore details like how long he had, but Russell had left the med bay shaken.

He'd done his own bit of research, asked Mordin, Chawas, anyone he could find that he thought qualified to give him the answers that he needed, but there had still been nothing. But he wasn't ready to give up hope. And he needed Thane to give science time to catch up with their needs.

Yet Thane said he didn't want to be treated as an invalid. He still had so much life left in him, so Russell stepped aside and let him take over setting up the shelter. At the rate Russell was going, they would either end up spending the night in the drop ship or back aboard the Normandy.

As Thane worked, his hands a flurry of movement as he assembled the beams to the right struts, Russell watched him anxiously for any signs of weakness, but Thane seemed as virile as ever. The dry heat could have been doing him some good, but it was far more likely that he was skilled at hiding the toll his illness had taken on him.

"So how does this compare to Rakhana?"

"I've never seen it first hand," Thane said, not missing a beat as he jammed two of the parts together until they locked loudly. "But compared to what you can find on the Extranet, it is fairly similar: just as barren, full of sand. I doubt there would be much variation, though Rakhana's terrain is a bit more asperous."

Thane stepped back and appraised his work. It was a lot like assembling a house in its most rudimentary form. It was one large room with the pieces of the roof attached to the tops of the beams, fitting together like a puzzle. All that was left was setting covers over it, and they'd have a sturdy, temporary housing unit for the coming days. He'd achieved in thirty minutes what had Russell couldn't complete in hours.

It was just in time. The sun kissed the crest of the closest dune, signaling the approach of nightfall. The coming darkness would bring cold with it, and Russell wanted to be well inside by the time that happened. Russell moved to help Thane put on the finishing touches. They wrapped the nano-sheeting over the framework securely. When the edges met the edges of the beam, they stiffened and locked into place creating a seal to keep out wind, rain, and hopefully, sand.

They finished just as the last rays of light disappeared by hind the dune. Russell, weighed down like a pack mule, carted their supplies inside. Thane returned to his seat.

"I had hoped to take Kolyat to Rakhana one day." His voice carried over the fifteen or so feet that separated them. "It was Irikah's wish for all of us to go there once he could appreciate the significance of the trip. Time makes fools of all of us, I suppose."

It was the first time he'd mentioned his wife since he'd voiced his attraction for Russell. Russell figured it must be some sort of misguided attempt to keep him at ease, but it felt wrong for Thane to censor himself in such a way. Meeting her had changed his life, set him on a better path, and helped mold him into the man he was today.

Russell knew what that was like.

Thane always spoke of her with such fondness. It would be a crime to not share her memory. If Thane wanted to recount his time with her, far be it for Russell to deprive him of sharing openly.

Russell went to sit beside him in the sand and handfuls of the granules rushed to fill his pockets. Thane didn't turn to look at him, continuing to look out over the darkening scene.

"Forgive me… I find myself becoming more nostalgic these days."

"No apologies necessary." Russell wrapped his arms around Thane's shoulders. The breaths that expanded his chest were shaky and uneven, but Russell didn't mention it. If the worst came to pass, Chakwas had outfitted them with another of those machines and showed Russell how to operate it. A nebulizer she called it, and medication designed to help reduce the inflammation in constricted pathways. Russell didn't want to have to put his knowledge to use.

"I wish Kolyat could see this," Thane said solemnly. If they'd had more time to plan, Russell would have suggested bringing him along. He probably still had a chip on his shoulder for the whole… Joram Talid thing, but Russell was certain he could put that aside for a few days.

"Next time, we'll go to Rakhana. I mean, if I wouldn't be intruding." It was assuming a lot. He told himself he wouldn't be too offended if Thane said his presence was not exactly welcome, but he knew that he would.

"No, I think it would be alright." Thane scooped up a handful of sand and held it in his fist. Slowly, he relaxed his fingers and watched as the fine grains, almost like water, filtered through his fingers. "I've seen your homeworld. It's only fitting that I get to share something with you."

Thane said he wanted to sit a while longer, so Russell went inside and set them up for the night. Russell stretched bed rolls out on one side of the tent, side by side. He hoped Thane didn't mind him taking the liberty. Since his first encounter with drell skin, the drell in question had been inviting himself up to Russell's room and into his bed. A small cooker, their food and water supply, and a field terminal—for long ranged communication-were placed on the other.

Russell's comm was turned off, leaving the terminal as the only tie those still aboard the ship had with those on the ground, not that they should have been contacting him anyway for anything short of a ship wide system failure, in which case, they couldn't contact him anyway.

He sat at the terminal, checking to see if anything had changed in the six hours since they'd disembarked. Only one new message illuminated his inbox, but it was from someone not even in the same solar system. Russell double-clicked to open it just as Thane entered.

He stood near the doorway, shaking sand from his person. His jacket went first and he hung it beside Russell's.

"It was getting rather brisk out there. I thought it best that I come inside."

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Russell watched as he engaged a secret seam in the leg of his pants, and removed his boots like he should have when he first came in. Hopefully he hadn't tracked any in their sleeping area.

The drell shook his head. "No need to trouble yourself. The tent is small enough that I'm sure I can attend to my own needs easily enough." Russell spared him a quick nod and a smile before turning back to the screen.

The message was from Garrus. He'd made it back to Palaven without any complications. He was still settling in, but he outlined his plans to take their case to the hierarchy, but it would be slow going. His mother wasn't doing well, but he didn't seem to want to linger on that, instead turning the conversation to the topic of Russell's love life. He wanted to know how things were progressing, if he should be shopping for wedding gifts.

If they were face to face, Russell would have ignored him completely and made him talk about his mother's condition at length. But from this distance, it was hard to tell how much pushing was too much, so Russell left it alone.

Russell was about to type out a noncommittal answer when his right ear felt strangely warm.

"What will you tell him?" Russell felt the words rumble from Thane's chest into his back as Thane draped himself over him. He wrapped his arms around the Spectre's middle and tucked his chin on Russell's shoulder, literally reading over it.

Russell shifted, arranging Thane's hands, one atop the other, on his belly and gripped them with the hand that wasn't working the terminal. "What should I tell him?" Russell wasn't sure of that himself and was open to suggestions.

He hadn't given their relationship a lot of thought, instead, just reducing it to the bare facts and taking them at face value. He enjoyed Thane's company, and Thane seemed to enjoy his. There didn't seem to be much else to it than that, but did there have to be? It was unlike any other relationship Russell had been in. It was mostly mental stimulation, with very little physical aspect. They were close, they kissed, they touched, but rarely did it come to more than that, due, in large part, to Russell's hesitation.

He was afraid.

After seeing how sickly Thane looked in the med bay that night, it scared him to even _think_ of touching him. He didn't want to be the one thing that sent him over the edge, aggravating his illness to a new level. They'd never even talked about how this relationship would proceed given Thane's health and inexperience with both humans and males, and Russell didn't want to be the one to bring it up.

Russell would have told Garrus all of this and more if he didn't have another set of eyes on his screen, but in lieu of that, he lifted up the arm bearing his omnitool and snapped a picture.

"I'll show him that," he said as he typed a snarky little message to the turian. "And let him draw his own conclusions." He piggybacked on the terminal's Extranet connection and sent the image off.

"A wise, if avoidant, solution." Thane chuckled and Russell's ears started to burn. God, he loved that sound. He didn't hear it enough.

A slim hand slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt and languidly stroked his belly, gently scratching at the sparse hair there. "Would you mind telling _me_ , in words, how we're doing?"

As much as Russell was enjoying Thane's attentions, he knew it was only a matter of time before things escalated to situation critical. Russell longed for the chance to engage Thane in a more physical setting, devoid of the violent basis of sparring, but he wouldn't ask it. If Thane wasn't up to it, he could do without it, and just handle his desires the same way he'd been doing it since he boarded the Normandy: ignore them until they reached a breaking point and then deal with them in the quickest and most discreet way possible.

After Torfan, Russell lived a life of solitude, with as few attachments as possible. He'd found his way to Ian, but for a long time, that was it. He would argue that it didn't count, since he was a civilian, but among his peers, Russell had been known as a lone wolf. What was the point of getting to know the people in the trenches with you, if one of you was going to die the next day? But then he started the hunt for Saren and picked up Garrus, Tali and Wrex along the way and all that changed.

He tried to tell himself that it was an ordinary level of concern, the type commanding officers had for their subordinates, but it quickly became more than that. He sought them out for their council, and later their companionship. Looking back on it now, Garrus was the first friend he'd allowed himself to make in years. But just as he was coming to grips with the idea of making himself vulnerable, Thane entered his life. He tried to relegate him to the status of friend. Then one day, he found himself caring just a bit more about one crew member's well-being over all others.

By that time, it was too late to go back.

"I'd say we're doing alright." And they were, as far as Russell was concerned. Everyday Russell learned something new about the man he was in love with as well as himself. He never would have thought he'd had the capacity to care for someone the way he did Thane. He enjoyed just watching him as he slept, listening to his stories, and the privilege of just being near him. If they never moved beyond this point in terms of physicality, Russell would be alright with that.

Thane was of a different mind.

He brushed his lips on the sensitive patch behind Russell's ear, one the spectre was sure he'd never shown him. One of his hands went further up Russell's shirt, fanning his fingers out over the human's chest. The other went low, slipping beneath a military grade waistband and resting just there. "Is that so?"

In that three word phrase Russell could hear the tender strands of his control starting to snap. He was only doing what he thought was right. Why was it never easy?

"You don't have to do this," Russell whispered and surprised himself by meaning it. He'd never been the selfless type, but this trip was all for Thane. He'd had no ulterior motives other than granting one of his wishes and trying to give the man some peace.

"I'm very aware of what my duties are, commander." Thane's hand slid lower, brushing against the juncture where brain and biology so often waged war. "And I'm not in the habit of doing things I don't wish to." To punctuate his point, he took Russell in his grip and gave a long, upward stroke.

Russell had given some intense thought—mostly when he was alone—as to what this particular act might feel like. The one and only time Thane had touched him in a way that was more than friendly, his hands had been rough, like calluses, but that was gone today. They felt almost as soft as human hands. Russell had no time to dwell on how that might be possible before Thane started moving again. He scooted closer, the hard length of him pressed against the small of Russell's back.

"If it bothers you, I can stop. But you needn't worry about any discomfort on my part." He stroked Russell's length again and the spectre went rigid.

"Does it bother you? Do you wish me to stop?" Thane's motions crept to a crawl, his breath still warming the back of Russell's neck.

"No," Russell said finally. He was only human. Weak, and susceptible to the promise of pleasure. "Don't stop talking either."

"You find my voice agreeable, then?" There was a strange quality just beneath his normal register, like the purr of a large, satisfied cat.

"Something like that," Russell breathed, leaning back into Thane just a little. For someone with no experience in this area, the drell was certainly holding his own. Or maybe he was lacking in just the area of performing on a partner. The thought of Thane employing this very technique in a more familiar setting… Russell would pay money to see that.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?" His lips grazed Russell's ear, clearly getting into his role now. His voice was just so _decadent_ , a word Russell had never used to describe anything in his life. It was like silk, like velvet as it glided across his skin.

Russell shook his head. "You could read the comm listing for the Normandy and it'd probably have the same effect." He'd thought about doing so once, but shelved the idea because it seemed utterly ridiculous and he couldn't bear the thought of having to explain to Thane exactly why he wanted such a thing. He hoped that he knew that Russell was joking. Mostly.

Thane laughed again, low and dark and secretive. Russell found himself getting addicted to the sound. "A story then." Thane slipped his hands free of Russell's clothes and received a groan of protest for his trouble. He ignored it as he guided them backwards from the terminal a bit. He moved from behind Shepard to his front and straddled his lap. Looking Russell in the eye, his fingers nimbly lowered the zipper of his jumpsuit away from his throat to make himself comfortable. Obviously, he planned on being here a while.

"Once, there was a human warrior, thought to be one of the most ruthless in the galaxy, but it was all due to a mix up. The battle that had earned the warrior this title hadn't left him unscathed as others assumed. No, every life lost left a wound in his breast until there was nothing but a gaping hole where his heart had once been. "

"This sounds _awfully_ familiar." As much as Shepard didn't want to hear his story, for he'd lived through it himself, he wanted to hear where Thane went with it. Thane pressed on as if he hadn't heard Russell's protest.

"The human wandered around, thinking he was to blame, the chasm in his chest widening with every battle, ever sacrifice, with every hollow victory. He started to believe the things whispered about him, that he was a villain, a murderer, that there had been a choice that he just hadn't seen because deep down he'd _wanted_ so many to die. He became afraid of him, didn't trust himself to make the right decisions, he didn't believe in himself. So he tried to hide. To numb himself, and it worked, for a time."

He took Russell's hand and placed it on his zipper. When the human's fingers had the little tab pinched between them, Thane guided his hand downward until it reached the end of its track. "And now I don't know which I'm supposed to pay attention to: your mouth or everything else."

"Which, is up to you, but you did ask me to speak." Thane looked up from under heavy lids. He'd been tracking the movements of his zipper and had his head bowed. Now, he looked at Russell, his mouth turned up in a sly grin. "Have you tired of the sound of my voice already?"

"No… but."

"Then I'll continue, shall I?" Thane grinned before launching back into his story.

"The human would have continued on like that, half in a dream if not for another fatal mistake that almost cost him the life of a trusted friend. He'd had his eyes rudely opened and he found the waking world worse off than when he'd left it. But that seemed to be the kick he needed to reclaim his life, to seek his redemption.

"He went to those around him for their advice, for their council and their words inspired him to make take the first steps to changing his life for the better. Yet while he was at his lowest, looking for guidance, his quest for redemption inspired another to start on a quest of his own." He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing over Russell's who sat transfixed. He couldn't move if he wanted to. He'd never wanted to think of his story in such eloquent terms before. He'd honestly never spent much time sitting and just thinking of the things he'd gone through, too busy trying to survive them, but Thane had. He'd paid attention to his trails and spoke them back to him in a way that made the story sound like something to learn from, rather than a junkie trying not to screw up too much.

"I'd thought I'd done enough when I spoke to my son again, prevented him from following me down this dark path, but to be happy with that would be accepting the bare minimum. And in following your example, that wouldn't have been anywhere near enough." He took Russell's hand and pressed it to his chest. The heartbeat was strong and irregular, by human standards. It didn't have quite the same two part _thump-thump_ rhythm, but rather hiccuped after the first. "It wasn't enough for the relationship with my son, and it wasn't enough for me."

He slipped his hands under Russell's shirt again, pulling it up to his collarbone, pausing there before he tried to pull it the rest of the way off. "Just like now. Sitting here, just looking at you won't be enough." Bunching the shirt in his fist, Thane lowered his mouth to Russell's chest and latched onto his nipple. He rolled it between his teeth, making Russell gasp. Where the hell had he learned _that_?

He pulled away, the hardened nub throbbing. "If you have any objections that _don't_ have to do with the state of my health, now would be the time to voice them. "

Thane had seen right through Russell, just as he always did. It wasn't that he was put off by Thane's illness. He still found him attractive, as if that were even in question, but the last thing he wanted was to worsen his condition. In the notes he'd gleaned from the Shadow Broker's database, physical activity _should_ help, but knowing _just_ how physical was the key.

Thane seemed up for dictating that.

He pushed Russell down to the padded floor, attacking his mouth, yanking his shirt off over his head. Warm lips were pressed to Russell's neck as Thane's hands were everywhere at once: on his chest, his hips, cupping him through his fatigues. At some point, he'd thought that Thane would be a bit more _shy_ about this whole thing. He had said that Russell would be his first male, but he was going at him with such passion, leaving him confused. It was like he was overcompensating. Desperation tinged his actions, moved his hands quicker, faster. Before Russell knew it, his shirt was on the floor by the door of the tent and his pants were well on their way to joining it.

Russell held onto that last active synapse firing in his brain and took hold of Thane's hands. The drell looked at him perplexed.

"Not like this." Not with Thane in such a frenzy, doing it because he thought he _had_ to. He didn't want to introduce Thane to this new world in a way that could be potentially disastrous. "We'll go slow, like I said before."

He knew why Thane was so eager to start this, though he doubted the man would ever admit it. He was afraid, though he doubted the man would ever admit it to him.

Russell kicked his pants off, and despite his words, helped Thane out of his suit. He bit his lip and almost considered going back on his word when he saw that Thane was as bare as the day Arashu made him and _God_ was he gorgeous. He wasn't going to take this as far as Thane had probably planned on doing, but he took a minute to run his hands along Thane's shoulders, his belly, his hips.

He stopped himself before he went too far and pushed Thane down against their bed roll. He pulled the blanket up to their waists and just lay there, looking at him, trying to memorize the dark eyes that seemed to be working just as hard to drink him in.

There would be another time where they wouldn't have to rush, where they could take their time and most of all doing so because the mood struck them, not because they felt it was their only chance.

Russell would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_AN_** : Continued in "Shrines"


End file.
